Hillary Allen - Out and Back

In kindergarten, we had career day at school. We were told to pick something we wanted to be when we grew up and present it to the class. I wasted no time. I was ready. I hurried home and told my mother exactly what I needed.

First on the list was a lab coat. Next, we went to get the best and most realistic bug stickers from the craft store. I meticulously covered my new white lab coat with all the bug stickers I could fit on there. After that came my neon-orange bug net, and then finallythe biggest and most important piece of allmy bug collection. After practicing my presentation over and over, I marched right into that kindergarten classroom on career day declaring I wanted to get a PhD and be an entomologistthats someone who studies bugs for a living.

I stayed on that academic path throughout my school years. And although my passion for bugs shifted from career to hobby, I built my future around pursuing a scientific career. I got a scholarship to a private liberal arts college to study chemistry, with my sights on graduate school. I accepted a PhD-candidate spot at the University of Colorado Denver, where I had plans to earn my doctoral degree in neuroscience and structural biology. I was in my element. I was doing it. I was making little kindergarten Hillary so proud.

But with all that work in the lab and countless hours at the lab bench, I had to find a way to reset. I needed a break and a way to let my mind rest. For me, recharging always revolved around movement. I had always been an athletehow do you think I was able to catch all those bugs if I couldnt run around for hours? But my experience as an athlete was mostly in organized or team sports. My father and sister, on the other hand, were avid runners. I was attracted to the simplicity of running, as well as its efficiencyas a graduate student, I didnt have much time to waste. So, I found a local running group and started running a few days a week before heading into the lab.

Running, I discovered, helped my creative process. As a busy neuroscientist who spent many hours in the lab each day, I needed down time. I needed time to pause and let my mind wander and create, and ultimately become more productive. The more I worked, the more I wanted to run. Running became a sacred space: time warped, and I could just enjoy feeling free. After about three months running with this group, Jne Day-Lucore, the organizer, introduced me to running on the trails. She had an impressive pedigree of trail running and wanted to share her passion. I became hooked, instantly.

No matter how stressful my day was, the time I spent running was my meditation. I was drawn in by the sounds of birds chirping, insects buzzing, and leaves rustling as the wind of my movement caressed the tree branches. I felt at one with nature. I could marvel at her beauty and complexity, especially at sunrise. There was something special about that time of day, greeting the morning, watching her wake up. Everything was still, quiet, and as the sun kissed the horizon, it felt like a secret shared between Mother Nature and me.

Running created a hallowed space. And I wanted more. More adventures, more traveling, more trails, more mountains, more challenges brought my way. I started designing my free time around running and began competing in trail races across the United States, traveling in any spare time from the lab and relishing every moment I got to lace up my shoes to run and explore.

I even picked up a nickname, coined by an ex-boyfriend who was also a training and adventure partner. He was an experienced ultrarunner who routinely did one-hundred-mile races, whereas I was a complete newbie who was just discovering how far she could go.

At the time, I was based outside of Golden, Colorado, and had only heard rumors of the myriad trails in Boulder, Colorado. Boulder boasted steep, technical, and brutal trails: a trail runners paradise. It was a rite of passage to run those trails, and I planned to run there with my then boyfriend and a couple of his seasoned running friends.

We planned to do two steep peaks on the Boulder Skyline Traverse: Green Mountain and Bear Peak. I wasnt sure I could hang with them, but I told myself Id hold on as long as I could, and when I got tired, I could just stop. Once we started on the trail, I discovered my rhythm and this wonderful thing called power hiking (a powerful hike that is more efficient on steep terrain when it becomes too steep or rocky to run). I got in a groove and before I knew it, I was at the top. I turned around to high five my friends, but when I looked back, no one was there.